Mon Cher
by Squirrel Named Bob
Summary: Harry and Snape meet in France during the summer. By accident, that is....


Title: Mon Cher Author: Squirrel Named Bob Pairing: HP/SS Warnings: Except for slight BDSM, kinkiness, and utter pointlessness, none really. Category: Utterly, shamelessly, totally, entirely PWP. Notes: Umm. This is a birthday fic for Anothes. I do not normally write birthday fics, but Anothes and I are partners in slash, not to mention sisters-at-heart. I also do not write HP slash or fics often, but Anothes somehow has gotten herself completely into it (Anothes: Blame Nishi K. and Gil-Estel of Mirkwood for that), and I had to write one for her birthday. Also thanks to Anothes for betaing. (Anothes: seriously needed it. Squirrel Named Bob: That's because it was written at 3 am. Anothes: Well if you hadn't waited until the NIGHT BEFORE MY BIRTHDAY to write most of it.. SNB: Well, my best writing is done last minute. Anothes: Snorts. Not saying much.. (just kidding))  
  
Harry carefully tucked the empty vial that once contained Aging Potion in the breast pocket of his kiwi-print t-shirt. The beach seemed somewhat empty save for the few witches and wizards that were too sloshed to move from their lawn chairs. He made his way through the white sand and onto the cool wooden plank that led to the small tiki shack that doubled as a bar.  
  
He paused a moment taking in the scene. Neon signs and plastic flamingoes covered the wall where a Bud-light clock hung aglow. The pungent smell of draft beer interfused with some cheesy tropical air freshener hung in bar. It didn't have the usual rowdiness of any muggle bar but a somewhat peaceful feel to it. No Angelina pushing him during dawn Quidditch practices, no 3-roll-long essays due for History of Magic and no hook- nosed, greasy-haired vampire-like Potion's master breathing down his neck. Just the brown-haired bar tender, the gentle hum of the neon lights and a greasy-haired hook-nosed dark stranger sitting at the bar--.  
  
"SNAPE? What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"Trying to enjoy my summer vacation, Potter. We teachers don't live in the castle, you know." Severus took another sip of his Black Russian.  
  
"I didn't expect to find you here, on the coast of France, though. I mean..er." Harry gave his hand a slight wobble.  
  
Snape arched his eyebrows, then turned back around to nurse his drink.  
  
"What'll it be, mac?" The bar tender asked in an extreme American accent as Harry straddled the bar stool.  
  
"Just a beer, thanks."  
  
Snape set his own drink down on the bar. "Nice Aging Potion, Potter. Wouldn't think you capable of such of draught."  
  
"I'm not. Paid a few galleons for it in Diagon Alley."  
  
"Here you are, Mac." The bartender placed the bottle and glass down and reached out his hand.  
  
"Oh! Right." Harry placed a galleon in the man's hand. "Keep the change."  
  
Severus rolled his eyes. "So much for keeping up with the culture." Apparently, the bartender had heard him as a grunt that sounded much like "tê te de merde" followed his comment.  
  
"I thought I'd be rid of you for at least a few months, Potter. But it seems you follow me everywhere."  
  
"Pfft, You think this was intentional?" Snape just sipped his drink. "You're what's pushing me to drink."  
  
Snape scoffed. "I don't see my wand help to your temple, forcing you to down a larger."  
  
Harry slammed his drink down on the bar. "Whatever. I don't need this. I'm here to relax. Obviously that's not going to happen with around. I'm off to the hotel."  
  
Snape smiled into his glass.  
  
--**--  
  
Harry navigated his way through the labyrinth of halls that lead to the main lobby. For what seemed like hours he passed nothing but potted miniature palm trees and the endless staircases. As he reached the lobby he dogged a bewitched luggage rack and made his way to the main desk. There again he found the black-robed Potion's Master.  
  
"What do you mean there are no rooms left!?" Snape was steaming.  
  
"I'm very sorry sir, but we are all booked up until next month. Although, there is a single bed room on the first floor that is unoccupied," the manager replied with a slight French accent.  
  
"And that would be mine." Harry hurried up to the front desk.  
  
"Potter, I believe I was here first."  
  
"Gentlemen! You could always share the room. I'll even throw in a half-off discount."  
  
Snapre gave a disgruntled grunt.  
  
--**--  
  
"I can't believe this." Harry swiped the card in front of the door. It made a courteous bow and swung open revealing a petit room that looked just big enough to house a small person. "Trying to get a fucking vacation and I end up with you in a bloody dog house, for Merlin's sake. When do things get better?"  
  
"As the Parisians say, c'est la vie." Snape swept the room with a glance. "Besides, the arm chair doesn't look that uncomfortable." He threw his bags on the bed and headed for the cubicle they called a bathroom.  
  
"And what the hell makes you think you get the bed tonight."  
  
Snape didn't reply; just simply shut the door.  
  
"Greasy Git. It's about time he took a shower."  
  
The air chair gave a slight grunt as Harry plopped himself down on it. "Bloody hell."  
  
Snape's black bag had been left open reveling an entirely black wardrobe. Black robes, black t-shirts, black shorts, black boxers.certainly the man must know of other colors. Harry couldn't resist the urge and began to dig through the other man's belongings. It was like shopping in Goth's closet -- - everything was black. Black hair brush, black toothbrush, black condom.  
  
"What the fuck!?" Harry said in the quietest tone he could manage. He flipped over the package to read the description:  
  
Steel: Licorice-Flavoured Condoms. For tasty intimate moments. Not to be used as water balloons. Not meant for consumption.  
  
Intrigued, Harry delved deeper to find the only non-black item that Snape might have owned. A pair of handcuffs. Beside them lay a bottle of black goop--or oil, at a closer look. Its label read: Licorice Stick Lick: Lubricant for candy lovers.  
  
"Wishful thinking?" Harry said aloud.  
  
"Partly." Snape had stepped out from the bathroom wearing a towel-turned- turban and another one wrapped around his waist. "What are you doing scavenging through my belongings?" His glare turned quickly to one of ultimate displeasure and invasion of privacy.  
  
"I-I, erm.well.I really can't explain myself." Harry began rapidly shoving things back into the bag. "Sorry sir I just.curious.what the." he held out a sinewy strap of fabric. "Really into bondage, are you?"  
  
"You idiot, that is a thong."  
  
Potter dropped the undergarment faster than a boiling hot bowl. "BLOODY FUCK! You wear those?"  
  
Snape gave an exasperated sigh. "No, I'm a fashion guru transporting them to the next fashion show. Use some common sense, Potter."  
  
"Harry. Just call me Harry. After all of this formalities aren't really needed."  
  
"Fine.Harry.kindly remove your prying fingers from my stuff and keep them to yourself for the rest of the evening."  
  
"Its only seven."  
  
"I know, it must be torture for you." Sarcasm dripped like blood from Snape's voice.  
  
"You bastard. If you think I'd ever fall for a nasty fuck like yourself you are very much-" Harry paused not able to complete his sentence.  
  
"I'm what, P-Harry?"  
  
Harry's hormonal mind screamed: Seductively scary, mysteriously erotic, just goddamn sexy  
  
"An enigma and bloody annoying."  
  
Snape smirked. "Nice to know I'm keeping up with my profile. Now, if don't mind I'm going out for the night."  
  
"Yea, whatever. Just don't bring back any of your friends, alright?"  
  
"Yes mother. Wouldn't want to spoil those virgin emerald eyes."  
  
--**--  
  
It was early morning when Snape returned to the hotel room to find Harry passed out on the bed. Though the late-night party had been a drag, Snape hadn't touched a drop of liquor. The Black Russian from that afternoon gave him a slight buzz, but it had long since worn off to a slightly throbbing headache.  
  
Figuring Harry wouldn't stir for quite a time Snape stripped to his boxers. The warm breeze led him to choose a thin silk pajama set, which he slipped on with ease. Clicking the ceiling  
  
After twenty minutes which seemed like a day in hell, Snape had decided the arm chair was not the wisest choice for sleeping. So, quietly and carefully he slipped in under the covers next to the Boy-Who-Lived. It was just a night, right? Tomorrow morning a room had to be open. It wasn't as if anything would happen between them, no matter how much Snape wished.  
  
--**--  
  
Subconsciously, Harry slung his arm around the large lumpy pillow that lay vertically next to him. In attempt to smooth out the bumps, Harry ran his hands down it to find what felt like a rather large srick. Opening his eyes, he recognized that lumpy pillow to be his Professor of 6 years. Harry's face contorted into an easily recognizable shock.  
  
"Please let that be his wand." he whispered. He peered over the sleeping man's side and gulped. "Nope."  
  
Snape gave a slight moan as Harry's fingers ran over his stiffness. "Oh.yes.please" he begged, still in dreamland.  
  
"Christ!" Harry withdrew his hand and slowly made his way out of bed to the bathroom to rid his own hard-on.  
  
At the sound of the door slamming Severus awoke. Shaking of the last of the after-effects, he noticed the expected empty spot next to him. Rising from the bed he made his way to knock on the bathroom door.  
  
"Harry, are you alright?" He hoped he hadn't scared the boy too much. I mean, it wasn't everyday you woke up to a strange man lying in your bed (unless you were completely snoggered the night before).  
  
Harry bit his unoccupied hand to stop a scream rising in his throat. After composing himself he stuttered out a response. "F-fine r-really. B-b-be out in a sec."  
  
"Are you sure?" Snape's voice came, muffled by the door.  
  
"Y-yes."  
  
He was so close to release, but if he came there was no way he could muffle his cries. This was going to be trying. Trying to shift his mind to anything but the Potion's master wearing that thong he closed his eyes.  
  
Umbridge as a pole dancer.  
  
Flitwick in the nude.  
  
Dobby in just the tea-cozy.  
  
Finally something clicked and his aching cock sank back into submission. Pulling up his trousers quickly, he vainly attempted to smooth his hair out and left the bathroom.  
  
"Potter, the barn door is wide open." Snape snickered.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The cucumber has left the salad."  
  
"What are you playing at."  
  
"For goodness sake, you're fly is open!"  
  
Looking down, Harry discover the potion's master had been right. He zipped up and tried to stop the blood from rushing to his cheeks. "You never saw that, Snape."  
  
"Indeed. Listen, Harry do you have anything planned for tonight?"  
  
Dear gods, was Snape hitting on him?  
  
"No, sir. Why?"  
  
"Well, I'm planning on going down to the bars again and I try not to make a habit of drinking alone."  
  
Harry was shocked. Snape was pretty much asking him on a date--flat-out flirting with him. Good Lord, had he even woken up this morning.  
  
"Er,..yea, sure whatever. See ya there."  
  
"Harry, you have no idea where I'm heading."  
  
"Oh yea."  
  
--**--  
  
Four beers and six hours later the pair were sharing some odd tales.  
  
".and then he found out exactly where we put the shaving cream."  
  
Snape chuckeld as Harry finished his tale. Three hours they'd been at the bar and things were now quieting down to a dull roar. Snape went to pay the bartender for their last two beers when a small hand grasped his thigh.  
  
"What do you say we get out of here and head down to the beach?" Harry's breath has a slightly pungent smell but his eyes were fixed at Severus' with complete soberness.  
  
"Are you suggesting anything."  
  
"Nah, nothing of the sort. Just, I don't know--we could talk."  
  
Snape conjured mental images of the kind of "talking" they'd being doing that evening. Though his body screamed go for it his head was giving him quite a lecture on his ethics.  
  
"Fuck morals." he muttered. "C'mon. Let's go."  
  
--**--  
  
Of course, Harry had been true to their word. All they did was talk. They talked about Hogwarts, about the weather, about nothing at all. With the warm summer breeze, Harry's voice and the soft lapping of the waves against the shore Snape felt himself dozing off.  
  
"Are you listening?"  
  
Snape grunted. "Yea, I'm still with you."  
  
"Then answer me? Is it strange for me to think that you..er.have feeling for me like I have for you?"  
  
"What.love?"  
  
"No. Sexual impulses"  
  
Snape was taken aback by his question. He was a blunt man himself but Harry took it to a whole new level. "Excuse me?"  
  
"I know you're going to think this is the beer talking, but I find you a very sexy man."  
  
"Potter you've had way--"  
  
"It's Harry. And I am not drunk." And Severus could see that. "Answer me.Severus."  
  
Harry's husky accentuation of his name sent Snape's head to whizzing as if he'd drank more alcohol then he actually had. "Harry I-I. Well, yes. I have had dreams about you.but really what do you care? I'm old enough to be your father."  
  
"True. But you know what? If we both want it, what's stopping us. Besides, on vacation you have to do at least 3 things you're going to regret."  
  
"And do you suppose that comment would win you any brownie points?"  
  
Harry gave him a husky laugh then gently brushed his lips against the Potion's Master. "No, but maybe that will."  
  
Snape took Harry in a rough kiss, bruising his lips in hunger. Harry's arm snaked around to entwine his fingers in his partner's flowing hair. With a great force of effort Snape ended the kiss and withdrew his wand from his pocket. Muttering a few spell words he conjured a black towel and spread it across the sand.  
  
"You do know they have these things called colors now a days."  
  
Snape shot him a playful look. "Would you rather it be pink?"  
  
With seeker like reflexes Harry had the Proffesor tackled into the towel and showered his face with heavy kisses.  
  
"H-Harry, off me NOW!"  
  
Harry restrained himself but looked at Snape with puppy eyes. "But.I thought you wanted this."  
  
"Trust me, I do. But these bloody shells are cutting into my rear!" Snape whipped the towel away and brandished his wand. "Razentate!" Tiny explosions sounded from the sand.  
  
"Clever little trick, n'est-ce pas? Now, where was I?"  
  
Harry smiled as he lay the towel flat once more. "You were just about to screw me into oblivion."  
  
Snape purred. "Very well."  
  
--**--  
  
The next morning Harry awoke feeling as if he'd been riding a very rowdy horse for a week straight. Bowlegged, he managed to make it to the shower to wash himself of last night's excursions. Snape awoke somewhat later (he'd always been a late sleeper) and again found himself knocking on the bathroom door.  
  
"Everything good on your end?" Snape smiled inwardly at his little pun.  
  
"No. I'll be feeling this for days."  
  
"No complaints though. I suppose you wouldn't be apt for another round this morning?"  
  
In moments the door was flung open and Harry stood basked in the bathroom lights in full glory.  
  
"Take me, I'm yours."  
  
Snape gave him an intrigued stare. "You know if you had turned out straight, there'd be millions of girls lined up for you. You're already whipped."  
  
Harry grabbed a towel from the bathroom and wrapped it around himself. "Oh har har and woof woof."  
  
"Now now, don't be so disobedient," Snape gently suckled and kissed up the side of his neck stopping at his ears. "I know many forms of punishments, " he whispered.  
  
He led Harry to the bed and quickly disposed of the towel. He pried the young boy's lips open forcing their tongues into battle, and neither would be subdued. Harry made fast with the button on Snape's pants and slowly pulled the zipper down. Even under the tough layer of black denim Harry could feel Snape's arousal pressing against his thighs. Snape aided in the remove of his clothes and soon stood there clothed in only his socks.  
  
"How should I take you, Harry? Should I begin slowly by sucking you until you plead to come? Or should I simply pound into your tight opening until you cry out in pain and pleasure?"  
  
Harry grasped his erect cock which glistened with pre-come. "Yes.please."  
  
"Well which is it Harry? I need to know." Snape grabbed the bottle of licorice-scented oil and tossed it between his hands.  
  
"God, Snape. I don't care.just.please. Do something soon."  
  
Snape pondered there for a moment about which route he should take. Combining the two original ideas he began his quest to master the boy. He trailing his long fingernails down Harry's hairless chest, lightly dragging his fingernails in a circle around the boy's nipples. He watched in half- amazement as it budded and Harry sighed. Repeating the process once or twice Snape moved to the other nipple and watched as it hardened under his touch. Moving his hand lower he grasped Harry's dripping cock and begin a slow rhythmic movement up and down it's shaft. Harry moaned beneath him and slightly raised his hips inviting Snape's hand into a faster pace.  
  
"Oh.yes.faster.oh my." Harry threw his head back against the pillow and jutted his hips wildly as Snape's pace quickened. As it look as if Harry were near orgasm Snape slowed his movements to a halt. Harry let out a groan and reached down once more in attempt to relieve what Snape had built up inside him.  
  
Snape caught his hand first. "Wait, don't." Snape was having all he could do trying to keep himself under wraps. "I suggest a bit of role reversal."  
  
"What the hell do you mean?" Harry asked, hard and completely frustrated.  
  
"Me-tied to the bed. You-taking me."  
  
It clicked. "So, after 6 years with you I can finally take my revenge for all those wasted Potions lessons."  
  
"Well, I wouldn't call them wasted but yes. Only there's one thing.."  
  
"I knew there'd be a catch."  
  
"I want to see you in my thong." Snape motioned towards the black bag that lay in the corner.  
  
Harry just stared at him for a moment, mouth wide open. "Are you shitting me? I mean, first of all I'm going to look like a complete fool and second," Harry swallowed and shifted uncomfortably "don't you think 'Little Harry' will be a little constricted?"  
  
"Not really, seeing as you won't be wearing it for long."  
  
"Fine. Then you'll be blindfolded."  
  
"Now wait."  
  
"But I promise to take it off before I remove the thong, deal."  
  
Snape contemplated it a moment. "Deal"  
  
--**--  
  
Harry had retreated to the bathroom to situate himself. Snape had remained on the bed and arraged the lubricant, blindfold, handcuffs and whip on the dresser. Not that it mattered. They would soon by strewn about the bed (if not room), anyhow.  
  
Still walking with a slight bowed-leg, Harry stepped out wearing the thong a a very disgruntled look on his face.  
  
"Shall I pose for you or can I just hog tie you now."  
  
Snape struggled momentarily with a loss of words. "No. N-no. There's no rope. Handcuffs. Blindfold."  
  
Harry's eyes lit up. You never mentioned a blindfold.  
  
Within minutes, Snape had been handcuffed to the beposts and blinding with the blindfold. Unable to see anything, Snape relied on his keen hearing to keep a check on whatever Harry was doing. At the moment, it seemed like Golden Boy was having problems with the whip.  
  
"Damn thing. It has no aim."  
  
Snape wanted to laugh, but seeing as there was a crazed seventeen-year-old boy with a deadly weapon in hand it didn't seem to be the best choice. "Flick your wrist more."  
  
"Like this?"  
  
Crack!  
  
Snape took a sharp breath in through his teeth as the whip slashes across his tender flank. "Better."  
  
Crack!  
  
The lamp shattered on the floor.  
  
"Opps. Hell, let's try that again."  
  
A rumbling noise came from beside the bed. Snape could only guess that Harry was climbing the dresser.  
  
And he was right. Slowly regaining his balance and that of the wobbling dresser Harry raised the whip again. "Are you ready for this?"  
  
"Ready as I'll ever be."  
  
Harry scuffled his heals back to the far end of the dresser wanting to get a running start before pouncing on Severus. The begin down the runway went off as planned as his feet sprung from the hard wood surface with an almost graceful leap.  
  
"Ahhhhhh!!!"  
  
Thwack!  
  
Thud!  
  
"Urgh.."  
  
Severus paused. "Harry? What's happened? Are you OK?"  
  
--**--  
  
The cleaning lady had found the pair four hours later. Harry lay unconscious by the bed with a large injury to the head from the ceiling fan. Snape had still been bound to the bed in nothing but his socks. Needless to say, the woman was so shocked that she had hotel personnel take care of the matter (against Snape's pleadings).  
  
After a short search for the key, Snape had been released. Harry had been tended to by a local medic and now sported a large red goose-egg next to his scar.  
  
"Can't they do anything about that?" Snape asked.  
  
"No. But they say it should go away after a few days." Harry glanced up at the whirling blades about the bed. "I fought the fan and the fan won."  
  
Snape chuckled.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"Other that a bruised pride and ego, Harry, I'm physically fine."  
  
"Well, at least there's some good news."  
  
--**--  
  
Snape returned his room key to the desk clerk who handled it as if it were a soiled rag. Grabbing his bag, Snape made eye contact with the boy beside him.  
  
"So. Are we up for a vacation same time next year?"  
  
"You bet. Though, I'd rather we go somewhere far away from here." Harry grabbed his own bag and headed for the revolving doors.  
  
"Whatever you wish, mon cher." 


End file.
